


Sandwiches

by servantofclio



Series: Maeve Surana [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9828803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: “You Fereldans have no idea of what makes a proper sandwich.”About food, and double entendres.





	

“You Fereldans have no idea of what makes a proper sandwich.”

“Oh?” Maeve Surana replied. Lying twined in both his blankets and hers, she felt pleasantly warm, sated and languorous from their recent exertions. In such a mood, Zev sometimes became more voluble, especially about the woeful inferiority of the south, and this prospect amused her. She added, provoking: “I don’t see what was wrong with today’s sandwiches.”

She could feel Zevran’s sigh, forceful enough to ruffle the blankets. “A slab of greasy meat squeezed between chunks of rough bread is not a proper _sandwich_. There is not art to it, no refinement, hardly any flavor to speak of!” He gestured with one hand as he spoke, flinging off the coverings as he did. The motion made the flowing lines of his tattoos swirl in interesting ways over his arm and bared chest.

Surana edged closer with a sly smile. “So? Is that not what a sandwich is? Meat and bread, perhaps a little butter.”

“Butter,” he said, as if it were a curse. “I suppose it will do, if one has nothing better.”

She deliberately made her eyes wide and innocent. “Are there other ways to make sandwiches, then? For all the sandwiches I had in my youth were so.”

He cast one scornful look at her. “You poor, benighted child, growing up in such a place. Even the Crows fed us better than that.”

“Do tell.” She laid a hand on his chest. “How do Antivans make their sandwiches?”

Under her hand, his ribs expanded as he inhaled, preparing, no doubt, for a long speech. “Ah, where to begin. The bread should be finer, for one thing, not this coarse dark stuff. The crust should be crisp, the crumb softer to the tooth. And the meat should be sliced properly. A fine ham, in several thin slices, not one thick slab, plopped upon the bread without thought or care.”

Surana bit back a smile and shifted closer yet. Zev was frowning in concentration as he spoke, gaze far away, and she rather enjoyed watching his profile. “That does sound nice. Is that all?”

“ _All_? Certainly not. A sandwich must have a spread, something with real zest. A spicy mustard, let us say.” His eyes half-closed. “Something with bite. Or a good, creamy aioli, with plenty of garlic. And not only that. A slice or two of cheese — toasted, just enough to make it melt, and some bitter greens.” He opened one eye and looked at her reproachfully. “And now you have made me hungry.”

“Me? You’ve made _me_ hungry.” Her mouth was indeed watering at the prospect, though she had only a vague idea of what an aioli was. Garlic sounded quite nice, nonetheless. The tip of her tongue darted out and circled over her lips.

Zev watched it. She was quite sure of that. “A sandwich,” he said, “should truly be a feast for the senses, not merely... grub for the road, as our dwarf friend would say.”

She laughed softly. “Thank you for telling me of the Antivan sandwich. I should like to try one someday.”

His eyes lit, and mirth rippled across his face. His mouth opened, and then closed, settling into a smile. “That would be... quite the day.”

Surana narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing, my dear Warden. I should certainly like to see you... try such a sandwich.”

His chest was shaking under her palm with suppressed laughter. She propped herself up on one elbow, the better to stare down at him with her sternest gaze. “Tell me the joke, Zev.”

He pressed his lips together, eyes skating to the side.

“Tell me, or I’ll ask Leliana.”

His mouth pressed tighter, the corners of his lips quivering.

“Zev.” Her fingers found the ticklish spot on his ribs, and he flinched away, the laughter finally erupting out of him.

“Ahaha, stop, stop! I yield, I yield!”

“As well you should,” she told him, leaning over him. “Tell me what amuses you so.”

He took another moment to compose himself. “An ‘Antivan sandwich’ is also slang, in certain quarters, for a certain sexual... configuration, shall we say.”

“Oh.” Surana thought about that one. “Ohhh.” A wicked smile curved across her mouth, and she slid one thigh over him to straddle him, bracing herself on hands and knees. “And who is to be the zesty middle of this sandwich, hm? You or me?”

His eyes went bright and distant, his mouth growing a little slack at the thought. “That would depend — ahhh — on who the third party was, surely.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, and smiled at the way he hissed in pleasure when she settled a little of her weight against him. “You laughed when I mentioned Leliana.”

“If any other in our party has had the pleasure of an Antivan sandwich, it is surely our lovely bard.” Under the covers, his hand went to her hip, his thumb tracing the curve of her hipbone.

“Ah, the benefit of experience,” she said lazily, starting to rock against him, feeling his cock stir beneath her. “A most enticing thought. Or perhaps, you and me and Alistair.”

His eyes widened and then slid half-shut. “What a prospect! Though I fear your fellow Warden, fine strapping fellow though he is, would have little taste for such ventures.”

“A pity.” She leaned down to kiss him, long and slow, ending by pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. “Alas, we shall have to content ourselves with but half a sandwich for now.”

Zev sputtered. “That is not... not how the saying...”

She kissed him again to quiet him, rubbing herself against him, and indeed he subsided into gasps.

She would see to it that they were both quite satisfied, sandwich or no.


End file.
